


Black Roses and "Hail Mary"s

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Flashbacks, Gen, Guilt, Jason Todd is Dead, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: Dick visits Jason's grave after learning about his death. Cross-posted on Tumblr





	Black Roses and "Hail Mary"s

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on artwork by Tumblr user @xbullet-01 and is posted with their permission.

_Jason Peter Todd, age 15, died on Saturday, December 22 while on an overseas trip with adoptive father, Bruce Wayne. He is preceded in death by parents Catherine and Willis Todd. He is succeeded in life by adoptive father Bruce Wayne and adoptive brother Richard Grayson. A closed-casket visitation will take place at Newcomer Funeral Home from 10 AM until 7 PM on Thursday, December 27. The funeral will take place on Friday, December 28, at 9 AM at the Gotham Cathedral with graveside service to follow. In lieu of flowers, expressions of sympathy may be made to the Hudson County Department of Child Services._

He crumpled the two-week old paper in his hands and threw it onto the floor, not caring where it had landed. It couldn’t be true. Jason wasn’t dead. Just a month ago, they’d been laughing together at the manor, Dick finally having warmed up to his replacement. Just two weeks ago they’d gone on patrol together and talked about all of the things Dick would be doing off-planet.

And now he was cold and stiff and pale and dead.

And Bruce hadn’t even bothered to give him a damned phone call.

He hadn’t even been able to go to the funeral.

His heart was pounding in his chest, and it wasn’t fair. He was able to stand there, complaining about something Jason would never be able to experience again.

He started to reach for the phone, teeth clenched. He rehearsed everything he wanted to say to Bruce in his head three times over. But his hand wouldn’t wrap around the receiver. He swore and punched the wall next to where the phone sat hanging, the pain in his knuckles not registering for several moments.

 ********

Dick had gone home to visit the family after a rough case with the Titans. He’d found out about the new kid from the papers and from some tense phone calls with Bruce and Alfred, but knowing and experiencing were two completely different things. “Hey,” he greeted Bruce and threw his bag onto his bed.

“You could’ve at least said hello to him,” Bruce crossed his arms and Dick rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well you could’ve at least told me about him,” he snapped.

He didn’t even regret it when he saw the younger boy’s head quickly duck out of view of the doorframe, when he heard the footsteps all but running down the hall.

********* 

 The rain was pouring down, but the water was hard to see against the black night sky. His suit clung to his skin, and he didn’t even care about how hard it was going to be to take off that much wet spandex once he got home. He had debated the outfit for hours. A suit was more appropriate, more formal, more traditional. But Jason had never done anything the traditional way.

Enough people would have worn suits to mourn him, people that sent flowers and Hallmark cards and pretended to care until the next big tragedy popped up. Jason’s name would fade away. Dick could see the future galas clearly in his head. _“Oh, and remember that one boy? The one from Crime Alley? Such a shame what happened to him,”_ some woman with a diamond ring on her finger and diamond studs in her ears would say. _“Ah, yes, a shame to die so young. What was his name? John? James?”_

He wandered through the cemetery, long deserted by that hour, looking for the stone he least wanted to see. He passed the smaller graves with the tiny headstones. He passed the monuments for people that history had already forgotten.

And he saw it, gray and cold and unfeeling. _Jason P. Todd. August 16, 1994 – December 22, 2009. May You Forever Soar the Skies._

Dick shook his head and stared at the stone. It wasn’t right. Jason had been fire. And now he was surrounded by ice.

 *********

 “Oh my God, we’re going to die,” Dick muttered and shut his eyes tightly, leaning his head against the back window of the car. On the list of bad ideas Bruce had come up with that week, Jason driving them to the gala was definitely near the top. By his count, they’d run two redlights (it was different when they were civilians) and nearly rammed into an elderly lady.

 Bruce turned and shot him a glare. “At least he didn’t wreck the car two minutes after getting onto the freeway and use the goddamn brake!”

 “Sorry,” Jason squeaked out, and Dick couldn’t help but smirk. At least Bruce was consistent with being tough on them.  

 He got out of the car, hanging behind Bruce, and waited for Jason to step out of the driver’s seat. “You did… okay,” he managed. “Just, I don’t know, relax or something, okay?”

 “Hard to do when you’re being screamed at,” Jason muttered and crossed his arms. For a moment, Dick wondered what the kid’s deal was. All Bruce had told Dick was that Jason’s parents were dead and that he came from the bad part of town.

 “Yeah, well, he does that,” Dick shrugged. “It’s how he shows he cares. Now let’s get inside. The sooner we make appearances the sooner we can disappear with Roy.”

 He thought he saw a glimmer of a smile on the younger boy’s face. And just for a moment, he thought maybe having someone on his side wouldn’t be so bad.

 **********

 He clutched a single, long-stemmed rose in his hand. The thorns had torn through his glove and made his hand bleed, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t been sure of what to bring. A bouquet seemed too impersonal.

 His chest was tight and his mouth was dry. Jason was just a kid. He’d just gotten his learner’s permit. He was going to ask the kid from his class out on a date. Now he was never going to get his license and he was never going to go on that date. He’d never get married. Never have kids. Never be the person Dick knew he could have been.

 And it was so damn unfair. Jason was starting to get better. Bruce was getting through to him. The anger and aggression and impulsivity were all getting better.

 Death was something that happened to other people, not to them. Not when enough had been taken from them already.

 He threw the rose onto the grave and sat on the cold, wet ground, staring at it. “I’m so sorry, Jay,” he heard his voice crack and he hated himself for it. He felt like the air had been knocked out of him, like someone had ripped his chest open and grabbed him by the heart.

 And he could feel the rage that Bruce always warned him about boiling in his veins because Jason had died and Bruce hadn’t done a goddamned thing about it.

 ******

 “If you flick your wrist they’ll fly better,” Dick leaned against the wall and watched as Jason practiced throwing his Birdarangs. Bruce had a Wayne Enterprises event. Alfred had been given the night off. And Dick had been less than thrilled at Bruce’s attempt to force him to bond with Jason.

 “Can you go five minutes without criticizing me?” Jason snapped, green eyes full of fight and fire.

 Dick blinked and crossed his arms, impressed that he’d finally stood up to him.  “Will you just trust me?” he asked.

 Jason sighed and let out a resigned “Fine.” Dick smiled and stood behind him, guiding his arms and his right wrist. He felt Jason’s breath catch when he saw the weapon fly and land, sticking into the wall. Alfred would be upset that they’d damaged the new paint, but Dick didn’t care.

 He stepped back and watched Jason turn to face him. “Did you see that?” the younger boy asked, eyes full of wonder.

 “You know,” Dick laughed. “Sometimes I do know what I’m talking about.”

 *******

 He shouldn’t have driven to the manor. Rationally, he knew that. He was angry and upset and not in his right mind. But he needed to have that conversation in person. “Dick?” Bruce frowned and glanced over at him from his desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“When were you planning on telling me?” Dick slammed his helmet onto the desk in front of him.

“How did you…”

“The damn paper, Bruce!” he snapped and shook his head furiously. “Not to mention it’s all over the damn media. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? He’s dead and you couldn’t even come to tell me yourself…”

“I didn’t know what to say,” Bruce sighed and rested his head in the palm of his hand. And for a second, Dick felt sorry for him. He’d lost a brother, but Bruce had lost a son. “It was quick,” he said, but wouldn’t look back up at Dick. “He wasn’t in pain.”

“And I’m sure that’s exactly what you told all your stupid fake friends,” Dick said, trying to keep his temper in check. “What really happened?”

“Why do you need to know the details?”

“Because he’s my brother, and he’s dead, and you don’t even care enough to tell the damned truth about it!”

He’d crossed a line. He knew it as soon as he saw Bruce’s eyes flash, something dangerous in them. Bruce Wayne, caring father and public figure had left the room. Cold, terrifying Batman had replaced him. “You want to know what happened?” the older man demanded. Dick wondered if Alfred would pop his head in to make sure they were both okay. “He went off on his own. He was kidnapped by the Joker. He was beaten within an inch of his life, and he was blown up. Are you happy now?”

 And Dick wanted to scream, to demand how Bruce could keep himself so far away from the situation. But fighting wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t bring Jason back.

He grabbed his helmet and he left.

 ******

They had fought just before Jason had died. Dick had told himself he’d cool down while he was off-planet. That they could work it out and go back to their regular, twisted lives. _You could have killed him,_ he could still hear his voice shouting at Jason, dressed as Robin.

_Yeah, well I didn’t. Even if he deserved it._

The rain was falling harder. It was late and he needed to get back home. But he didn’t want to leave Jason there alone. He should have been nicer. Maybe then Jason wouldn’t have gone off on his own. Maybe then he’d still be alive.

Dick never hugged him. Dick Grayson, the most touchy-feely person on the planet, had never hugged his little brother, the person he was supposed to protect and love and care for no matter what.

His arms were wrapped around the headstone before he knew what he was doing. His breaths were shuddering and ragged, and he knew that the rain wasn’t the only thing making his face wet.

He rested his head against the cold, hard concrete. “I’m sorry, Jay,” he spoke, voice barely above a broken whisper.

Jason was gone.

And it was all his fault.

“Dick?” he jumped when he heard Bruce’s voice behind him. He pulled himself away from the headstone, trying to act as though nothing had ever happened. He started to stand, but Bruce pushed him back down. He watched as his adoptive father sat on the ground beside him. What a sight it must have been, Nightwing and Batman staring at the grave of a boy time would forget. “I’m sorry.”

He wanted to fight. He wanted to scream for Bruce to leave him the hell alone, to never talk to him again. But all the fight had been drained out of him. And when Bruce pulled him into a tight hug, he did nothing to push him away. “I’m so, so sorry.”


End file.
